


a bench at the end of a long day

by orphan_account



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Gen, Maps, Non-Graphic Violence, Sleep Deprivation, Some Plot, some things aren't tagged because spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 09:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Benches have always been a place of refuge and respite for them.





	a bench at the end of a long day

Benches are always a source of comfort for them.

They pull their map out from under their cloak, spreading it out over the bench. Cornifer had sold them the extension to the Fungal Wastes earlier, his price having seemed reasonable; they had handed over the money quickly, eager for a map to show them where to go.

But not eager.

They're a blank slate, after all.

Pulling out their quill, they look over the new scrap of parchment which has been added to their map. The rooms are threadbare with no details. They add in the changes between areas, sticking a little pin on Leg Eater's shop. It will be worth going back to the shop once they have gathered enough Geo ─ Fragile Strength could presumably be a useful charm for them.

Their quill scratches as they write. The sound comes to grate, but they push the thought aside. They do not feel, after all. Feelings extend to disliking sounds, and so they continue to write. The spaces on their map slowly fill in with each marking they add.

Their head begins to droop as they write. They are beginning to tire, though they will not admit it. That is not the sign of a perfect vessel. But they're just... so tired. Shaking their head slightly, they focus on the map once more.

There is a pit below the Mantis Village, presumably where some great foe awaits them. That is always the case. Finishing the last area of the map, they begin to fold it up with gentle movements. It would not do for their map to become ruined, and them to have to pay for it once more.

At least, they tell themselves that. Why would a vessel care if their map was ruined?

The Mantis Lords move with frightening speed. Almost before they can bow they are being attacked, a point-thin nail aimed towards them as the first mantis dashes forwards. They leap upwards and instinctively strike downwards only for another to attack, her swing from the side catching them off guard.

From there they can adapt though. They jump only as high as they need to in order to avoid the first mantis, and dash with nail outstretched to attack the second. The third sister watches imperiously in the background but they do not acknowledge her. Not yet.

When the first mantis reclaims her seat on her throne they do not rest. The battle is not yet up. They keep their nail drawn, and the bubbling SOUL within them prepared to lash out. The second sister strikes downwards and they dash out of the way. Letting their spirit burst forth from their chest, they watch as the mantis is caught off guard by the sudden white-hot attack.

She, too, takes her seat on her throne.

The final lord leaps down to begin the battle anew. Her attacks are just a fraction faster than her sisters' were, to the point that they have to adjust too quickly after each movement. They are left unbalanced, on a delicate rope that will fray and snap if they use one wrong attack. One wrong move will doom them, they are sure.

A final vengeful spirit has the final lord retreating to her throne. The sisters stand in unison, and bow. They respect them, they realise. They wonder why; they have done nothing worthy of respect. But they bow back.

Their nail remains drawn, but it droops.

Benches remain a refuge and a respite for them.

Once more unfurling their map over the bench, they peer down at it. More rooms to add underneath the Mantis Village: they add a crude drawing of the three thrones upon which the sisters sat, and the fourth, crumbling and forgotten to the side. They add the room in which they are sat now, marking it with a little pin.

They have nothing more to add. So they gently fold their map up, place their quill within the folds, and tuck it away beneath their cloak.

The bench now clear, they allow themselves to lean back. These moments of respite, where they don't have to fight for a single second of peace, are something to be cherished. Their tiredness has begun to sink deep into their shell. They want to rest, deep within their void-body.

They wrap their cloak tighter around their body, and allow themselves to sink into slumber.

Hornet has not seen the little ghost since they set off for the City of Tears.

**Author's Note:**

> ...if ur one of those people who skips to the notes at the end this has spoilers lol
> 
> i intended for this to be read as if ghost... died, i suppose? they were just too tired to carry on in my opinion. though you could also view it as them deciding not to go underground and staying in dirtmouth with elderbug for as long as they 'live'
> 
> my twt is @ sichengsgods if u want to follow me... hehe


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